


I'm Back, Welcome Home

by Kurotoraa



Series: When We're Together, I Feel Like I'm Walking On Clouds [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aobajousai Loses to Karasuno, But he goes home and cries to himself, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Hajime's mom is best mom, Iwaizumi Hajime can cook omg, Iwaizumi Hajime is too strong, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, M/M, Of course Oikawa puts on a brave face in front of his teammates, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Oikawa Tooru's parents are shit, Oikawa is a good captain fight me, Oikawa needs to stop worrying about everything, Super Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurotoraa/pseuds/Kurotoraa
Summary: “I'm sorr--”“Stop apologizing, it feels wrong, like the sky's going to fall or something."“Iwa-chaaan, you're so meannnnn."“That's more like it.”In which Oikawa loses, breaks, wins, and heals, feat. soft Iwaizumi.





	1. Losing and Winning

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow this is way longer than I expected it to be haha
> 
> Little note:  
> Miso (a type of soup) - fermented soybean paste, water, tofu, nori (seaweed)  
> Okayu - rice porridge (something like congee)  
> Itadakimasu - In Japan, it is custom to say this before eating (can translate to "Let's eat", "Thanks for the food", etc. There are many different translations for this)

_“Say what you will, but the results are what you see. There’s no way your disappointment will subside. I’m sure there are even some plays you regret. With that in mind, let me just say something: You fought well.”_

_“Let’s go greet the people in the stands.”_

_Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, standing still as many of his teammates filed past him, his whole figure the very picture of defeat. Oikawa’s steps faltered as he noticed glittering tears, like small shards of glass, falling to the polished gym floor. The broad shoulders he knew for most of his life were hunched and the proud head was bowed, the usually straight and unflinching stature gone, turquoise number 4 standing out starkly against the rest of the white uniform. Stepping forward, Oikawa made a colossal effort not to break down crying right there and then; seeing the usually stoic (and also oftentimes angry) Iwaizumi crying made him want to stand and cry along with him. No doubt the male was thinking about that near impossible play he had just done - it had still been picked up by Karasuno’s captain, Sawamura Daichi. Although it was clearly a miracle that Iwaizumi had been able to hit the ball from a court long set by Oikawa (something they had never done before) and still manage to keep it in the court, Iwaizumi clearly thought otherwise, as if he should be able to perfectly pull off said miracles as the team’s ace. Ever since they were small children, Iwaizumi had always been the stronger one, constantly expecting more from himself and protecting Oikawa any way he could. Raising his right hand, Oikawa slapped his childhood friend’s back firmly, carefully reining in the strength he had built up from all his serve and spike practice. He hoped that Iwaizumi would understand that he was there for him._  

Oikawa blinked, his flashback of just a few hours prior dissipating as his gaze focused on his open palm. Curling his slender fingers into a fist, he squeezed gently, remembering the feel of Iwaizumi’s strong back muscles under his palm. His right knee throbbed dully, reminding him of the definitely lame fall he had taken in his desperate attempt to save the ball. Raising his knees, Oikawa hugged them to his chest, pressing his back to the unyielding wall of his room. Tears he had worked so hard to suppress in front of his teammates to be the supporting captain they needed sprung forth, unbidden and unrelenting.

_If only I hadn’t wasted so many points...I should have practiced that serve more...My last year, and I couldn’t even help them win...I bet Iwa-chan hates me now, I’m such a terrible captain..._

Hot and salty tears flowed down his cheeks, and Oikawa lowered his head to his knees, surrendering to the unrelenting waves of sobs that shook his whole body. Oikawa Tōru did not cry pretty. His chocolate brown eyes were always unattractively swollen after, his nose ran, and when he cried really hard, he made no sound. It was as if he was placed on mute, his sobs wracking his body but with no real sound slipping out from between his parted lips. Sniffling quietly, the brunet slid down until he was laying on his side atop his bed, tears sliding across the bridge of his nose and down the side of his face. Halfheartedly, he swiped at his eyes with his palms, fighting a losing war as he tried, unsuccessfully, to halt his tears.

Suddenly, angry knocking rang through the empty house. Slapping a hand to his mouth, Oikawa managed to silence the startled yelp that almost escaped him, tears running down his bare arm and dripping off the elbow. The loud banging at the door started again after a split moment of silence. Wiping at his eyes in a vain attempt to seem presentable, the brunet hesitantly padded, barefoot, towards the stairs leading down to the first floor. A male voice, with a familiar mix of anger, exasperation, and menace, sounded from right outside the front door.

“Oi, Trashykawa, open the door.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped, the shock halting the flow of tears down his cheeks as he recognized the deep voice belonging to the ace of his team.

“...Iwa-chan?!”

Iwaizumi stood outside Oikawa’s door, silently seething at himself for not realizing sooner. Banging on the door a few more times for emphasis, he repeated,

“Open the door.”

“...Why are you here, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa asked, his voice subdued and stuffy sounding.

A soft sniffle was heard from his side of the door shortly after his question, proving that Iwaizumi was correct in worrying about Oikawa breaking down alone. Cursing colourfully in his mind and rapidly losing his patience, Iwaizumi growled,

“Shittykawa, I'm not going to repeat myself again.”

On the other side of the door separating the two, Oikawa was silent. His tears had started once again, and he was contemplating the pros and cons of not opening the door for Iwaizumi.

**Pro: Iwa-chan would not see his pitiful crying face.**

**Con: Iwa-chan would probably murder him the next time they met.**

**Pro: He could wallow in his grief and guilt alone.**

**Con: Iwa-chan would probably kick down the door if he had to.**

Just as Iwaizumi was about to attempt to kick down Oikawa’s door (he would most likely succeed, too), it opened. Save for the slender fingers and a tuft of dark chocolate brown hair, Oikawa was completely hidden out of sight behind the door.

“Oi, what are you hiding for.”

“...Don't look.”

“What are you, a schoolgirl that just confessed?!”

Grabbing Oikawa’s wrist, Iwaizumi pulled him away from the door while kicking it shut behind them. Raising his free arm, the brunet attempted to hide his face behind it, his other arm captured in Iwaizumi’s vice like grip. Quickly pushing the lock into place, Iwaizumi shoved the taller male against the wall, grabbing the other wrist with his free hand. His impressive strength was displayed when Iwaizumi pinned both of Oikawa's arms to the wall on either sides of his head, revealing the brunet's teary face.

“Iwa-chan, you brute,” Oikawa sniffled, tears dripping from his chin and splashing onto the hardwood flooring they were standing on.

“...C’mon,” Iwaizumi replied, abruptly releasing Oikawa and tugging him towards the living room.

Just as they cross the doorway of the living room, Oikawa stubbornly halts in place, still crying quietly. Iwaizumi pins the other male with a chilling glare that Oikawa knew was not meant to be mean nor truly angry.

“You cry ugly, Trashykawa, stop it,” Iwaizumi said, gently rubbing away a tear with his thumb.

“...Are you trying to make me feel better, Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa knew he shouldn't be feeling the small pang of hope he did, for it was probably wrong. He braced himself for Iwaizumi’s blunt - and usually slightly callous - comeback.

“...Is it working?”

The shorter dark haired male blinked, embarrassment evident in his expression as Oikawa gaped at him in surprise. A strangled sound escaped him as more tears flowed from pained chocolate brown eyes.

“...Iwaaaaa-chaaaaannnnn…”

Looking relieved that Oikawa hadn't replied with a teasing remark, Iwaizumi held his arms open, smiling softly.

“Hey now...c’mere." 

Exactly like an obedient and energetic puppy, Oikawa rushed at Iwaizumi, practically tackling him. Biting back a curse, Iwaizumi stood firm, managing not to topple over. Sliding slowly down to sit on the ground, the older male murmured _It's okay_ repeatedly as Oikawa sobbed into his shoulder and apologized.

“I'm sorry--”

“It's okay.”

“I’m sorry I messed up--”

“It’s okay.”

“I'm sorry I'm such a terrible person--”

“It's okay.”

“I'm a terrible captain--”

“It's okay.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“Iwa-chan, why are you here, I should--”

“No, you should not be crying alone. You're not a bad captain, and I know you well enough to know you like to put up a strong front in front of others--”

“I'm sorr--”

“Stop apologizing, it feels wrong, like the sky's going to fall or something.”

“Iwa-chaaan, you're so meannnnn.”

“That's more like it.”

 

***

 

“Iwaaa-channn, I'm sleepy,” Oikawa complained, nuzzling the dark haired male's neck with his nose.

Iwaizumi grunted in response, his attention captured by a science fiction book about aliens he had found on the coffee table. With a small _hmph_ , Oikawa flops down, resting his head in Iwaizumi’s lap.

“The sofa is right over there, Shittykawa, what are you doing,” Iwaizumi demands, smacking Oikawa with the paperback he held in his right hand

Oikawa looks up at Iwaizumi with wide pleading eyes, his fluffy brown hair splayed all over the other male's thigh.

“Please, Iwa-chan.”

Opening his mouth to reject him, Iwaizumi feels a pang of guilt, forcing him to snap his mouth shut with an audible _click_ of teeth.

“...Fine.”

 

***

 

“...Oi, Oikawa, are you asleep?”

There is no reply; Oikawa continues breathing slowly and evenly, eyes swollen from all the crying he’d done, and his face is finally relaxed. Iwaizumi realizes that even though he looked terrible, like he had been crying for the past hour (which he had), Oikawa was still impressively and undeniably pretty.

 _Maybe it's only because his damn mouth is shut, for once_ , Iwaizumi thinks, slightly amused.

“...I guess you're asleep,” he murmurs.

Gently snaking an arm under Oikawa’s shoulders and another under his knees, Iwaizumi slowly shifts the brunet’s weight into his arms. Defined arm muscles ripple and flex as he easily lifts Oikawa’s weight, the book still dangling from his right hand as he starts towards Oikawa’s room. In his arms, Oikawa smirks, brown eyes opening and gazing up at Iwaizumi with childlike mischief.

“Iwa-chan, you're so strong~”

Iwaizumi startles, almost dropping Oikawa onto the floor.

“Crappykawa, you were awake?!”

Grinning widely, Oikawa’s only response is draping his arm over the other male’s neck and shoulders. Weak to the brunet’s pure hearted joyous smile (although he would never admit it), Iwaizumi clicks his tongue in annoyance before shifting his grip, lifting Oikawa with a single arm. Returning his attention back to his book, the dark haired male strides up the stairs as he carefully holds the book in one hand, the other occupied by Oikawa. The brunet promptly goes silent, marveling at the Iwaizumi’s ability to lift all 72 kilograms of him with just one arm and casually read while climbing stairs.

Once Iwaizumi steps through the doorway of Oikawa’s bedroom, he considers, for all of 2 seconds, to carefully place the younger male down on the bed, but rethinks it just as quickly. Instead, he _tosses_ Oikawa like an air filled balloon, the brunet landing with a startled _oof!_ as all the air was forcefully pushed out of his lungs from the impact. Oikawa lays still for a moment, wondering at how Iwaizumi could toss him so easily. 

 _Just how strong is he?_  

Unaware of Oikawa’s astonished gaze practically drilling a hole into the back of his head, Iwaizumi sits down, leaning on the bed frame as he flips a page of the book. A sharp throb of pain has Oikawa carefully clutching his right leg just slightly below the knee, a small pitiful cry escaping his parted lips and face scrunched in pain.

“Ouch...It hurts…”

Iwaizumi immediately whirls around, lowering his book, allowing Oikawa to see the panicked expression on his usually frowning face.

 _That’s a rare one, never seen that look before_ , Oikawa muses through a haze of pain.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi curses, “Tōru, is it your knee?”

The brunet blinked, shocked speechless at Iwaizumi’s use of his first name and not some mean mix of his last name.

“Iwa-chan, it hurts,” Oikawa whimpers.

The older male, flustered and very concerned, drops the book to the floor and rushes to the bed. Swiftly kneeling before Oikawa, Iwaizumi carefully straightens the brunet’s leg before gently ghosting his fingers across the knee.

“Does it hurt?”

Oikawa feels a pang of guilt for worrying Iwaizumi, who was clearly panicking and unsure of what to do. Satisfied with being able to see a side of Iwaizumi that no one else had ever seen before, Oikawa decides to soldier through the pain alone.

“Iwa-chan, I was kidding,” he says, bracing himself for the punch that he knew was definitely going to land.

“Shitty Oikawa,” the older male hisses, his voice full of menace as he swings at Oikawa’s stomach with a fist so tightly clenched, the knuckles were stark white.

Oikawa blinks when he feels only a small smack, Iwaizumi’s strong knuckles only lightly hitting his abs before it is withdrawn. Iwaizumi sits back down, his back to both the bed and Oikawa, but not before the brunet catches the relieved expression on his face.

“...I’m sorry...Hajime,” Oikawa apologizes, his voice wavering slightly, worried that Iwaizumi would not accept his apology.

Iwaizumi’s blinks in surprise, eyes wide, at Oikawa’s use of his first name, sans the usual _-chan_.

“...It’s fine,” he replies, voice soft.

Oikawa exhales shakily, his hand grabbing and squeezing a fistful of the blanket underneath him as he struggled not to make a sound. Iwaizumi rose to his feet and swiftly left the room, as if he had to use the restroom very badly. Glad that the older male picked that time to leave, Oikawa buried his face in one of the pillows on his bed, muffling his groan of pain. As quickly as he left, Iwaizumi was back, clutching a roll of bandages in one hand and a frozen ice pack wrapped in a towel in the other, a bottle of water along with one of painkillers sticking out of his pocket.

“...Iwa-chan?”

“Stupid Oikawa, I know you’re lying,” Iwaizumi replied, the lack of the usual venom in his voice effectively silencing the brunet.

Biting his lip for a moment, Oikawa tried one last time to reassure the older male.

“Iwa-chan, I’m fine--”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Iwaizumi snarled, the sound sending chills down Oikawa’s spine.

Slightly afraid, Oikawa closed his mouth, laying still as Iwaizumi handed him a pill followed by the bottle of water. Swallowing a large mouthful of water to flush the pill down, Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi carefully folded the right leg of his sweatpants up in neat rolls of material. Bandages follow soon after, the dark haired male frowning in intense concentration as he tenderly wrapped Oikawa’s bruised and throbbing knee. Balancing the towel wrapped ice pack on top of the bandages, Iwaizumi sat back down, carefully observing and analyzing the brunet's expressions. Oikawa blinks, slightly nervous, under Iwaizumi’s careful scrutiny.

“...Does it still hurt?”

Still gazing directly into Iwaizumi’s sharp olive green eyes, the brunet pauses as he thinks. Feeling only a very dull pain radiating from his knee, Oikawa slowly shakes his head, the movement miniscule and almost imperceptible. Iwaizumi visibly deflates, tightly wound muscles relaxing, expression one of relieved happiness. As if realizing that he had just gone outside his usual range of expressions, the dark haired male immediately huffs in feigned annoyance, turning his back and picking up his book. Oikawa smiles softly and momentarily at the broad shoulders before his chocolate brown eyes flutter shut.

 

***

 

“...I'm going to go out to buy some ice cream, want some?”

When he is greeted with silence, Iwaizumi whirls around, his book dropping forgotten, for the second time of the day, to the floor beside him

“OI, DON'T IGNOR--"

Iwaizumi promptly halts mid sentence, his mouth open, upon seeing Oikawa’s peacefully sleeping face, the lean body loosely curled into a ball on top of the blankets. Somehow, the older male knows that the brunet is truly asleep this time.

Plucking the ice pack from where it had fallen from Oikawa’s knee, Iwaizumi places it on the floor beside his book, making a mental note to put it back into the freezer. Sliding an arm under Oikawa’s curled form, Iwaizumi gently lifts the sleeping brunet, carefully sliding the blanket out under him. Laying Oikawa back down, the dark haired male tucks the blanket around him, exactly like how a mother would for their child. Grimacing at the still slightly damp shoulder (from Oikawa’s tears) of his t shirt, Iwaizumi swiftly pulls it over his head, tossing it onto the floor beside the abandoned book. Rummaging in Oikawa’s open dresser drawer, he grabs the first shirt he sees, pulling it on as he exits the room.

Carefully speed walking as fast as he could without risking a fall down the stairs, Iwaizumi pulls the freezer door of the fridge open when he reaches it, tossing the partially melted ice pack inside before slamming it shut. Shoving his feet into his running shoes, he rushed out of the house, locking the house door with a spare key Oikawa had shoved at him sometime long ago. Although Iwaizumi had shouted at Oikawa at the time ( _I don't need it, I'm not going to use it, ever!_ ), he had kept it, and even looped it onto his ring of keys alongside his own house keys.

He practically sprints to the convenience store, telling himself he wanted to use it as stamina training, but knowing in his heart that it was because Oikawa would panic if Iwaizumi was not there when he woke up. Grabbing two soda popsicles from the freezer in the store, Iwaizumi heads for the cash register, digging in his pants pockets for the money that was clinking cheerfully against his keys. The owner of the small store, an old woman with mostly white hair streaked with silver, stepped into the dark haired male's path, effectively halting him.

“You must be Hajime Iwa-chan,” the woman says

Surprised, Iwaizumi automatically bows and murmurs a polite _hello_ , wondering how the woman knew him.

“Tōru-chan talks about you all the time,” she continues, smiling kindly.

“...How…”

The word unknowingly slips out from between Iwaizumi’s surprised lips, and the woman's smile widens in clear affection, her eyes darting briefly from the male's face to the shirt he was wearing and back again. Eyes following the woman's, Iwaizumi glances down, realizing he had grabbed one of Oikawa’s favourite shirts. The fabric was soft with wear - indicating it had been worn many, many times - and was a dark olive green like Iwaizumi’s eyes, with a small alien face near the top left, slightly above his heart. Iwaizumi realizes that he himself had seen the brunet wear the shirt very often. It was no wonder the woman had recognized him, Oikawa wore the shirt so often that it was practically all he wore.

“...Tōru-chan loves to buy those, too,” the woman giggles, gesturing at the popsicles Iwaizumi held, his grip loose around the handles of the clear plastic bag he had placed them in.

Iwaizumi can't help himself, he chuckles quietly at the woman's remark.

 _So Oikawa likes these, too_ , he mused, the thought oddly relieving.

“--Hajime-chan?”

“Oh, sorry, yes?”

“Oh my, you and Tōru-chan are so alike, spacing out while the old granny talks,” she laughs, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“...Sorry,” Iwaizumi apologises quietly, chastised.

“My, my, it's quite alright! As I was saying, Hajime-chan, please come with me.”

“...Alright,” he replies, trailing behind her as she slowly strides away.

Soon, Iwaizumi is walking around with a shopping basket in his hand, desperately trying to stop the old woman from placing more things into it. Of course, he failed miserably, feebly protesting as the basket is filled with a wide variety of snacks, individually packaged buns, and sweets. When practically one of each item on the shelf in the aisle they were in was in the basket, the woman tossed one last bag of small candies into it with a self satisfied smile, causing Iwaizumi to almost drop the basket.

“Ah...ma’am, I don't think I have enough money on me to pay for all this,” Iwaizumi says sheepishly, left hand rubbing the back of his neck, displaying his obvious discomfort with the situation.

“No, no no, deary me, you want me to have you pay for these? Tōru-chan comes here so often to buy snacks and take care of my grandchildren, I couldn't do anything so cruel like have you pay for some small snacks, no.”

“Ah, but…”

“You're here on behalf of Tōru-chan, aren't you,” the woman says, the question more of a statement.

Iwaizumi blinks in surprise; this woman was clearly very observant of people and her surroundings.

“…”

“Please, take these and cheer Tōru-chan up for me, all of us here miss him dearly.”

_How...Does she know we lost against Karasuno? Actually, doesn't everyone know…_

“Tōru-chan's smile is the best, isn't it,” the woman suddenly says, her gaze expectant.

“...Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees, smiling softly.

“Oho, Hajime-chan’s smile is cute, too, how unexpected,” the woman chuckles, effectively diffusing the sorrow that had settled over Iwaizumi.

He stutters, face flushing, searching for words but coming up empty. She laughs at Iwaizumi's embarrassed face, patting his elbow gently.

“Now get going, I'm sure Tōru-chan is missing you right now,” she says firmly, voice not allowing any kind of retort. 

“Ah, but,” Iwaizumi hesitates, gazing down at the loaded basket in his hand.

“Oh deary me, I had forgotten that we haven't bagged those yet,” she laughs again, ushering Iwaizumi towards the cash register near the door.

The old woman watches as her husband places everything neatly in bags, carefully scanning each one. Taking the receipt, she crumples it into a small ball, and tosses it into the garbage. She then takes each bag and hands them to him, carefully looping the plastic handles around his hand. When all the bags are dangling from his right hand, Iwaizumi shoves his hand into his pocket, grabbing all the change that was jangling around, and deposits them onto the counter. Bowing swiftly and smiling, he leaves before the old woman can protest, the sliding glass doors opening with a cheerful _ding_ sound. As he walks away, the woman looks down at the coins resting on the counter, counting enough to pay for most of the items she had tossed into his basket. She remembers Iwaizumi’s worried, slightly angry, and _very_ unapproachable frown ( _or was it a scowl?_ she thought to herself, amused) when he walked in, his expression changing to one of genuine joy and relief after she, who seemed to know Oikawa very well, talked to him.

“Children these days are so kind.”

Iwaizumi idly strolled down the street, heading back at a leisurely pace before realizing that he shouldn't be walking that slow.

 _Shit_ , he inwardly grumbled, _how long did I spend talking with that old granny? Please let Oikawa not be awake yet..._

Panic buzzing frantically in his mind, he picked up his pace, jogging lightly, the bags in his hand weighing him down.

Hurriedly unlocking the door, Iwaizumi quietly mumbles _I'm back,_ under his breath, out of force of habit. Kicking his running shoes off and placing them neatly beside Oikawa’s, he relocks the front door before padding back up the stairs, bags rustling from where they dangle in his right hand.

Just as Iwaizumi takes a few steps into the room, he is tackled by all 72 kilograms of Oikawa, small distressed noises escaping the brunet.

“Oi, what's wrong, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi mutters, although he had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew exactly what was wrong.

“Iwa-channn, I thought you left me,” Oikawa wails, a hint of true fear and pain lingering under his petulant voice.

“...Why would I do that,” Iwaizumi replies, laying flat on his back and working hard not to allow any hints of annoyance into his voice.

Exhaling a small breath of air, slightly breathless from his running, Iwaizumi relaxed under Oikawa’s weight, the tension from worrying about the brunet dissipating. His tailbone, elbows, shoulder blades, and the back of his head throbbed dully with pain from striking the floor. In a vain attempt to stop his descent to the floor, Iwaizumi’s left elbow had made contact with the floor first, bearing most of his weight before he had fallen flat on his back. Cursing in his head, the dark haired male ground his teeth together, practically feeling the bad bruise blooming on his elbow. Oikawa lay still save for the shaking of his shoulders, his head over Iwaizumi’s racing heart, mostly likely crying his eyes out again.

Releasing the many grocery bags from between tightly clenched fingers, Iwaizumi raises his right hand and gently strokes Oikawa’s fluffy brown hair.

“I went out to get ice cream and the old lady there held me back for quite a while to talk to me,” Iwaizumi explains, carefully keeping his voice a low murmur.

A strangled sound escapes Oikawa, but a miniscule amount of tightly coiled tension leaves the lean body curled on top of him. Glad that Oikawa had chosen to lay on top of his chest ( _Tch, I spoil him too much_ ), Iwaizumi breathes slowly and deeply, carefully calming his heartbeat in hopes that it would also calm the crying brunet. The silence in the room, occasionally broken by a sniffle from Oikawa, feels suffocating, and Iwaizumi unconsciously starts humming. With no real notes nor rhythm, it rumbles soft and low in his chest, under Oikawa's ear. The brunet sighs softly and it immediately halts, the older male’s breathing stuttering for a moment as he silently gasps in realization of what he had been doing.

Iwaizumi gazes at the ceiling, nervously wondering what Oikawa’s response would be. When the other male doesn't immediately resume his tuneless humming, the brunet makes an irritated sound. Frowning, Iwaizumi hums once in confusion, the tone of the sound lilting upwards at the end in a questioning manner. After a pause, Oikawa repeats his huff of dissatisfaction, and it seems to say _Don't stop_. Still confused, the dark haired male starts humming again, the sound wavering with his uncertainty. Oikawa purrs in satisfaction and softly nuzzles him, reminding Iwaizumi of a cat and causing the older male to smile softly as he hums.

 

***

 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi murmurs, “get off me and we can have some ice cream, okay?”

Thankfully, Oikawa had stopped crying almost instantly when Iwaizumi had started humming and had instead drifted into a blissful half conscious state, allowing the older male to shift his worry to the ice cream most likely melting away in the bag.

 _Just like a wild animal, using a mother's heartbeat to calm down_ , Iwaizumi ponders, _wait, I didn't just think that, I'm no mother...Ah, the ice cream is probably melting..._

“Oikawa,” he repeats, gently shaking the brunet’s shoulder.

Jolting out of his stupor, Oikawa’s brown eyes blink open, gazing up at Iwaizumi in confusion. He sits up with Iwaizumi’s soft coaxing, slowly wriggling off the older male and blinking his wide brown eyes sleepily.

“There, that's better,” Iwaizumi practically coos in a voice many use to speak with small animals or children, smiling softly as he raises a hand and gently brushes a stray tear from the corner of Oikawa’s eye.

Sighing softly, the dark haired male debates leaving the room to place the popsicles into the freezer, no longer in the mood for ice cream. He was sure Oikawa was not in the mood for ice cream either.

“I’m sorry Iwa-chan, I wasted so many points missing serves…”

Iwaizumi’s head whips up in alarm at Oikawa’s soft tone, voice full of regret and sorrow, no hint of his usual teasing or playful whining. The usually bright chocolate brown eyes are dull and the nearly always present curl of his lip, the smirk Iwaizumi was always annoyed with, was gone like it had never existed.

Scowling furiously, Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s head between his hands, palms pressed to warm cheeks. A small high pitched sound of alarm escapes the brunet, his eyes wide and fearful. The hands that had firmly captured his cheeks relaxed, gently cradling his face between careful fingers. For a few moments more, Iwaizumi's expression reads _I'm going to headbutt you with all my strength because I'm angry_ before it softens into a _You endearing little shit_ one. Running his thumbs over Oikawa’s cheekbones, Iwaizumi gazes into the brunet’s eyes.

“You blame yourself too much and too often,” Iwaizumi stated matter of factly, “you need to stop doing that.”

Oikawa’s face scrunches up in a grimace of pain and sorrow, tears pooling in his eyes. His fists are tightly clenched, knuckles white and pressed against the floor.

“B-but--”

“No buts,” was the firm response.

The brunet bows his head and lowers his tear filled eyes, looking exactly like a puppy that had been very thoroughly reprimanded. Feeling guilty, Iwaizumi sighed before pulling Oikawa into his lap, wrapping his arms around the slumped shoulders. Oikawa responds with a sniffle before snuggling closer to Iwaizumi’s body heat and resting his head on the dark haired male's collarbone.

“...Oi, hold on tight, I'm going to stand up,” Iwaizumi quietly commanded.

A small sound of surprise escapes Oikawa; Iwaizumi was the type to say _Get off me_ before he would ever say _Hold onto me_. Although Iwaizumi usually never hesitated when he said he was going to do something, this time, he sat patiently waiting for Oikawa to slowly wrap his arms and legs around him before standing up. Grabbing the bag with the popsicles in it, Iwaizumi starts down the stairs slowly, avoiding walls and objects while carefully accounting for Oikawa’s injured knee.

After he had tossed the popsicles into the freezer and shut the fridge door, Iwaizumi digs into the grocery bag, holding up a bag of small chewy candies. Tearing the bag open, he pops one into his mouth, holding it gently between his teeth.

“Oikawa, do you want one,” Iwaizumi asks around the candy in his mouth, reaching into the bag for another.

He glances up, narrow green eyes widening in surprise, when he feels soft lips make contact with his, followed swiftly by a sly tongue licking his mouth open. Before the older male could make a sound, Oikawa retreats, the candy that had been in Iwaizumi’s mouth now between the brunet’s pearly whites. Oikawa flashes his signature smirk before chewing the candy with a thoughtful hum, looking extremely satisfied with himself. Iwaizumi exhales a startled breath before tossing another candy into his mouth, quickly chewing it before the brunet could attempt to steal it again.

Returning back up the stairs at a pace so leisurely slow it was practically a crawl, Iwaizumi alternates between feeding Oikawa and himself candy as he walks, the brunet clinging onto him like a koala bear. Occasionally, Oikawa repeats his mischievous candy stealing, grinning impishly when the older male glowers at him. Although it doesn’t show, Iwaizumi is inwardly relieved that the brunet is back to his devilishly playful self; he often holds pieces of candy between his teeth, purposefully hesitating before chewing them, allowing Oikawa the perfect opportunities to steal it from him. Delighted with his countless “victories”, the devious brunet doesn’t think twice about being presented with a few too many opportunities, playfully taunting Iwaizumi each time he swipes a small fruit flavoured sweet from him.

When they finally reach Oikawa’s room, Iwaizumi strides quickly towards the bed, feeling an intense motherly urge to make sure the injured brunet is comfortable. However, when he attempts to set Oikawa down, Oikawa is oblivious, eyes closed and ankles locked together at the small of Iwaizumi’s back. Not willing to risk hurting him, the older male slowly sits down on the bed, carefully making sure Oikawa’s bad knee is not jolted in any way. Gleaming chocolate brown eyes flutter open when Oikawa realizes that he was settled in an immobile Iwaizumi’s lap, the dark haired male sitting cross legged with his eyes closed and head tilted back to rest on the wall.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers softly, hesitantly testing out the waters.

“What is it,” Iwaizumi patiently replied, clearly in a much better mood.

“I...I don't...I--”

Sharp olive green eyes open, gazing at Oikawa with an intensely focused gaze that had the brunet squirming under the scrutiny.

“What, spit it out.”

“...I don't want to be separated from you, Iwa-chan, we promised to be together forever…”

Iwaizumi doesn't reply; his expression is carefully neutral, displaying none of the turmoil he feels within to hear those words.

“...Just kidding,” Oikawa laughed, the sound forced and sad.

“...We can--”

“Don’t--don’t say you'll...go to the same university as me, didn't you already decide you were going somewhere else…”

“I wasn't about to say anything like that!”

Iwaizumi sighs softly, his warm breath tickling Oikawa’s neck. Clearing his throat to stall some time, he continues,

“As I was about to say before _someone_ rudely interrupted me,” Iwaizumi glares at Oikawa, who responds with a petulant _But Iwa-chaaaan_ , “I guess we can live together…”

The response is immediate: Oikawa lights up like a person who had been starved for water in the desert but was suddenly presented with a lake full of it.

“REALLY, IWA-CHANNN?!”

“...I don't know, if I can't tolerate you, I can just kick you out--”

“How _mean_ , Iwa-chaaaaannnnn,” Oikawa whines.

Iwaizumi's lips curl slightly upwards at Oikawa’s familiar playful whining.

“I was looking for apartment rooms the other day…”

“YAY I CAN LIVE WITH IWA-CHAAANNN,” Oikawa sings, belting the words at the top of his lungs as he thrusts his fists into the air, disrupting his center of balance with the sudden movement.

Oikawa yelps as he pitches forward, reacting a second too late to halt his descent. Quick as lightning, Iwaizumi releases the grocery bag that he had unconsciously been holding onto for quite some time and reaches for Oikawa. A strong arm encircles the brunet's waist and the hand of the other cradles his head, making sure he doesn't hit it on anything. His eyes flutter closed in relief before his full weight rests momentarily on his bad knee, wrenching a pained cry from Oikawa’s parted lips. Without even a split second of hesitation, Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa onto his back, pinning the startled brunet into place with a knee on either side of his hips and hands around his wrists. Reflexively, Oikawa’s hips buck upward in retaliation, and Iwaizumi plants his whole weight down on Oikawa as he straddles him. Beneath him, Oikawa writhes in an animalistic desire to be free, and Iwaizumi couldn't help the soft growl of frustration that escapes him as he tries to keep Oikawa down.

“Oikawa... _stop_ ,” Iwaizumi demands, his tone screaming _I'm the Alpha, obey me NOW_.

The brunet freezes before obediently going limp, his gaze turning down and slightly to the side in a submissive gesture. With a sigh of relief, Iwaizumi releases Oikawa’s wrists and carefully gets off of him, briefly planting a hand on his chest to make sure he stayed down.

“...Are your parents not coming home,” Iwaizumi asks when he is seated beside Oikawa on the bed.

“No...they're overseas on a trip,” Oikawa replies from where he lays comfortably on the bed, tone containing a hint of bitterness.

“...Knowing you, you'd probably never sleep and practice until you ruin yourself, so I'm going to stay here for a while.”

“Iwa-chaaan, do you love me that much~”

Iwaizumi turns his head to shoot Oikawa a furious glare, but when he does, he finds himself gazing at Oikawa’s back, the brunet having turned to face the wall.

“...Just kidding,” Oikawa quietly mutters.

Huffing an exasperated sigh, Iwaizumi leans over to gently ruffle Oikawa’s hair before standing up.

“I'm going to lay out the futon.”

“Ah, I'll help,” Oikawa offers, turning around to face Iwaizumi and pushing himself up onto his elbows to get up.

“No, you stay there, I can do it myself.”

“But--" 

“ _Stay,_ Oikawa." 

“...Fine,” Oikawa relents, knowing full well that Iwaizumi was stronger than he was and would tie him to the bed if he had to.

“What do you have in your fridge,” Iwaizumi questions as he lays out the futon beside the bed, plopping the blanket in a haphazard pile atop it and grabbing a pillow from one of the many on Oikawa’s bed.

Oikawa lays still for a moment as he ponders, stalling time, before he surrenders with a sigh.

“You know full well there's probably nothing in my fridge, Iwa-chan.”

“Tch. Your shitty parents never care enough about you, and this is why you're like this,” Iwaizumi growls, voice rising with each word, “working yourself until you break, trying to be better, and they just bash you down into the ground even though you are clearly trying more than just your best. Why did someone as nice as you be born with such dumbass parents?”

His mouth hanging open, Oikawa gapes at Iwaizumi, perplexed.

“Iwa-chan...did you just call me _nice_?”

Iwaizumi exhales an angry breath, outrage burning in his narrowed green eyes. Blatantly overlooking Oikawa’s question, Iwaizumi mutters quietly under his breath as the brunet’s astounded gaze burns a hole into his back.

“...I could make some miso, there should be at least _some_ vegetables in the fridge...maybe I should make some okayu first, see if Oikawa has any sort of appetite…we have more than enough snacks, anyways...”

“Iwa-chaaannn, what are you whispering about~?”

“You'll be okay by yourself for a while, right?" 

“No. No you won't be okay by yourself,” Iwaizumi replies to his own question, giving Oikawa no chance to.

“Iwa--”

“Okay. This could work.”

Getting up from where he sat on the futon, Iwaizumi turned towards the bed, stepping close enough to have his toes touching the edge of it, looming over Oikawa. 

“...This might hurt, I'm sorry,” Iwaizumi murmurs before scooping Oikawa into his arms, carefully cradling the brunet close to his chest.

With the forewarning, Oikawa is able to clap a hand over his mouth, effectively muffling his groan of pain. Nonetheless, Iwaizumi hears it, grimacing with a wince.

In the kitchen, Iwaizumi carefully sets Oikawa down on the glossy and abandoned dinner table. After telling the brunet to stay seated, he runs up the stairs to grab Oikawa’s white knee brace, along with the grocery bag of snacks from where he left it on the bed, the four other full bags sitting forgotten on the floor. Dashing back down the stairs, Iwaizumi finds Oikawa sitting patiently where he was left, chocolate brown eyes fixed on the doorway like an expectant puppy waiting for its owner to return. Unable to resist, Iwaizumi ruffles the brunet’s fluffy hair with a hand, chuckling lowly when Oikawa nuzzles his hand, as if asking for more pats.

Oikawa whines, sounding remarkably like a puppy, when Iwaizumi withdraws his hand. Iwaizumi laughs softly as he places the bag that was in his other hand onto the table beside Oikawa, drawing the male’s attention and halting his puppy dog whines. Tearing open a box of strawberry flavoured Pocky, Iwaizumi pulls open one of the individual packages while Oikawa watches his actions with attentive eyes. Placing a stick of Pocky into Oikawa’s eager mouth, Iwaizumi hands him the box, knowing the brunet would be distracted with eating for a while.

With a pleased sound, Oikawa proceeds to delicately nibble through package after package as Iwaizumi patiently pulls the knee brace on. The older male exhales little soft sounds of frustration when the leg of Oikawa’s sweatpants constantly falls into the way, Oikawa himself unhelpfully swinging his legs slightly as he eats. Even though he is very tempted to give up many times, Iwaizumi persists, finally succeeding in getting the knee brace onto Oikawa’s knee. Gently tapping the brunet's knee with his index finger, Iwaizumi is extremely pleased when Oikawa continues eating without pause, indicating that he had not felt anything.

“Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi raises his head, just as Oikawa leans forward. Sliding off the table, the brunet holds his arms out with a cheeky grin, knowing Iwaizumi would have no choice but to catch him.

“Shittykawa, that's _dangerous_ , you dumbass,” Iwaizumi roars, catching Oikawa with a small grunt, just as the brunet had predicted.

Oikawa laughs with abandon until he feels Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around him, as if the dark haired male had been genuinely afraid that he wouldn't be able to catch Oikawa on time. In return, the brunet tightens his grip, loosely wrapping his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist. 

“Hey Iwa-chan, I'm not made of glass, you know,” Oikawa whispers, his voice low and sultry, warm breath tickling the sensitive shell of Iwaizumi’s ear.

Grinding his teeth together, Iwaizumi forces back the shudder that threatened to shake his whole body, refusing to reveal his sensitive spot out of fear Oikawa would never let him live it down. Knowing him and his deviously playful and teasing personality, the brunet would probably find any way he could to take advantage of the weakness, one of the very few chinks in Iwaizumi’s tough armor. Oikawa, on the other hand, was prepared for strong resistance.

_As expected from Iwa-chan~_

Smirking devilishly, Oikawa softly exhales, blowing warm air on the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear, a test to see if he would react. Unseen by the brunet, one of Iwaizumi’s hands curl into a fist by his side, desperately trying to hold back a reaction. Oikawa assaults Iwaizumi’s ear one last time, teasingly licking it before moving down to kiss a path down his neck. Feeling the tendons of Iwaizumi’s neck tighten in response, Oikawa increases the strength of his teasing, adding small nips with his teeth - being extremely careful so as not to break the skin - followed by little soothing licks.

Leaning forward, Iwaizumi grabs the dinner table with both hands, gripping the edge so hard, his knuckles were ghostly white. Oikawa unconsciously tightens his arms and legs around Iwaizumi from the movement, and the older male feels as if he is trapped by an anaconda and just seconds from being constricted to death. Reaching the end of Iwaizumi’s neck and having received not even one desired response, Oikawa hums in disappointment, lips still pressed to the smooth skin and almost shattering Iwaizumi into pieces with his unintentional action.

Curious but not too optimistic, the brunet dips his tongue into the curve of the older male’s collarbone, smirking against the delicate skin when Iwaizumi’s whole body stiffened with a jerk. Huffing a small amused laugh, Oikawa continues lightly running his tongue along the gently sloping curve, rapidly wearing down Iwaizumi’s resolve. When the brunet bites down on his collarbone, Iwaizumi is unable to hold back the shudder that runs through his body, his dark haired head bowing down to rest on Oikawa’s shoulder as he inhales a sharp breath.

“Shitty…--kawa...you--”

“Iwa-chan, so good you can't talk, hmm,” Oikawa laughs, a proud accomplished air to his voice.

“You little…--Ah--”

Iwaizumi’s voice is all passive anger with no real bite, and he gasps quietly when Oikawa bites down on his collarbone once again, this time less hesitant and a little more forceful. 

“Found Iwa-chan's weakness,” Oikawa purrs, gently licking at the teeth marks he had left on the sensitive skin.

“...Crappykawa...you…--Tch, stop it,” Iwaizumi retorts, squirming half-heartedly in protest, hands busy with their death grip on the table.

The only reply he receives from the brunet is a small hum, acknowledging his words but obviously paying them no heed.

“...Dumbass, I have to cook-- _Stop it_.”

“But Iwa-chaaan, I'm not hungry,” Oikawa whines.

“I'm going to cook, and you're going to eat,” Iwaizumi snapped, tone firm and unyielding.

“I'll eat anything you cook for me, Iwa-chan~”

“I'll burn everything on purpose.”

“How meaann, Iwa-chaaan.”

Iwaizumi sets Oikawa onto the table again, reprimanding the brunet when he doesn't immediately let go. Like the child he is, Oikawa promptly starts sulking, pouting and swinging his legs angrily.

“...I can go next door and grab rice from my mom since she's probably done cooking it by now, or I can just cook some here,” Iwaizumi’s voice lilts upwards just slightly at the end, as if he was asking instead of stating, allowing Oikawa a choice.

“You can't be hoping to leave me againnn, Iwa-chaan,” Oikawa replies with a sulky glare.

“It'll be really quick,” Iwaizumi insists.

“Iwaaaaa-chaaaaannnn, no.”

There is no reply from Iwaizumi; the older male simply turns his back to Oikawa and starts washing his hands, preparing to cook. Just as Iwaizumi is filling a pot with water, the doorbell of the house rings. Whirling around in surprise, he doesn't miss Oikawa flinching hard at the edge of his vision.

_His parents can't be back already...Can they?_

“Want me to open it?”

“...I'll open it myself,” Oikawa replies, voice equally as low, but with an unmistakable tremble.

He strides towards the door, only a slight limp in his step, hesitantly reaching for the doorknob. Screwing his eyes shut for a moment, Oikawa whips the door open, like pulling a band-aid off in one go. Iwaizumi holds his breath, itching to be standing at the brunet's side, his muscles unconsciously tensing as if preparing for a fight.

“Hello!”

Oikawa’s voice is a cheerfully happy chirp, and Iwaizumi relaxes. After knowing Oikawa since they were small children, Iwaizumi knew all of the brunet’s falsely happy grins and cheers from the truly genuine ones. He even knew if Oikawa was faking it almost even before he himself knew it; just one word from Oikawa was enough for Iwaizumi to determine his mood and whether or not he was being sincere.

“Oh, Tōru, hi! If Hajime is cooking already, tell him to stop,” a distinct woman’s voice that Iwaizumi would never have mistaken for anyone else's sounds from the door, exactly as cheerful as Oikawa’s.

Placing the pot filled with water down on the counter and striding quickly to the door, Iwaizumi sees none other than his own mother standing just outside, returning Oikawa’s giant grin with one of her own.

“Mom!?”

“Hajime, there you are! I brought some rice and basic miso for you two, make sure you add some veggies into it~”

“Mom, you didn't have t--”

“Now now, Hajime, don't say that,” Iwaizumi’s mother coos, smiling widely in obvious affection.

Shoving the air tight pot she was holding in Iwaizumi’s hands, she gently hands the bag she was carrying in the crook of her arm to Oikawa. Glancing down in curiosity, the brunet sees a large Tupperware box, most likely filled to the brim with steaming rice.

“As I thought, Iwa-chan’s mom is so nice~”

“Don’t forget, Tōru, you're always welcome in our house,” she replied, smiling kindly and regarding Oikawa with affection, as if the brunet were another of her own sons.

“Mom--”

“Yes, yes, mother will be leaving now, bye bye!”

“No, wait--" 

“Bye Iwa-chan’s mom, thank you for the food~!”

“Ah, don't worry about it Tōru, it was my pleasure,” she calls before disappearing into the neighbouring house.

Iwaizumi sighs deeply before padding back into the kitchen, Oikawa trailing slowly behind him like a baby animal following their mother. Turning two of the stove top elements on, he places the pot filled with miso atop one, the pot filled with water atop the other. Oikawa hands him the Tupperware box, and Iwaizumi dumps the rice into the water filled pot, glad that he had used quite a large one. Placing the lid in its rightful place on top of the pot, Iwaizumi turns and lifts Oikawa, the brunet squeaking softly in surprise. Gently setting Oikawa back onto the dinner table, Iwaizumi orders him not to budge an inch.

“Stay there.”

“But Iwa-chaaann…”

“Stay. You can't put pressure on your knee when you're up on the table, so this is for the best,” Iwaizumi explains before reaching into the grocery bag on the table and holding up a milk bun.

Delighted, the brunet immediately forgets about the argument, gaze focused intently on his favourite food as Iwaizumi carefully tears open the delicate clear plastic before handing it to him. Oikawa happily works on devouring the bun, Iwaizumi watching for a brief moment before turning and opening the fridge door. Thankfully, there are carrots, a box of tofu, white radishes, and even potatoes, sitting on the door of the quite empty fridge.

Oikawa continues tearing into the bun with small bites as Iwaizumi meticulously washes and then chops the carrots, tofu, and white radishes. He cuts the carrots and white radishes into small thin strips to help them cook faster, and the tofu into much more generous chunks. Behind him, Oikawa finishes the milk bun, popping the last piece into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Dumping the vegetables (and tofu) into the almost boiling pot straight from the cutting board, Iwaizumi replaces the lid onto the pot and turns down the heat for the rice. Smirking, Oikawa licks his lips before hopping silently down from the table, leaving the plastic packaging behind and taking great care to land on his left leg with all of his weight. Stalking forward, the brunet watches Iwaizumi the way a predator would watch it's prey, carefully observing his movements and calculating the best way to attack.

Iwaizumi gently stirs the boiling rice with a large ladle before placing it aside with a satisfied look.

“Didn't I tell you not to move,” he deadpanned without turning around.

Oikawa freezes in place, his weight resting on his uninjured leg.

“How did--”

The older male turns around with a disapproving huff, glaring at the astonished brunet. 

“Don't worry Iwa-chan, I made sure not to put much weight on my bad leg.”

Frowning, Iwaizumi mutters a begrudging _Fine, then_ under his breath before turning back to the stove. He takes the lid off the pot with miso in it, and Oikawa inhales deeply and appreciatively.

“Mmm, Iwa-chan, that smells really nice~”

“Bowls.”

“Ah, right.”

As plates, bowls, and cutlery clink together while the sink runs in the background, Iwaizumi stirs the miso, turning off all the stovetop elements. Scooping up a small pool of soup, he carefully blows across the surface, until he is sure that it must be cooled enough to drink. Iwaizumi holds the ladle up with a hum to catch Oikawa’s attention; the brunet enthusiastically bounds to his side before cautiously drinking, afraid that it would be scalding hot. When the liquid doesn't burn his lips, Oikawa eagerly gulps the rest down. Pleased with the response of the brunet, Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa slowly licks his lips, before turning back towards the stove. If he was caught staring, he would never hear the end of it.

Oikawa impatiently places the bowls next to the stove, waiting for Iwaizumi to fill them. When the older male obliges and slowly fills them one by one, the brunet enthusiastically whisks them to the dinner table before rushing back to grab another. Soon, two pairs of steaming bowls sit opposite each other on the table - each pair has one filled with miso, the other filled with rice porridge. Perching on a chair, Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi brings the pot of miso to the table, along with the metal ladle. Once the older male is seated in his chair, the brunet chirps out a happy _Itadakimasu_ before grabbing his spoon and carefully digging into the rice porridge. Iwaizumi sighs in feigned exasperation before mirroring Oikawa, muttering a low _Itadakimasu_ of his own before attacking the bowl in front of him with equal zeal.

“Iwa-chaann, I can't eat anymore,” Oikawa soon declares, leaning back in his seat with a groan. 

Polishing off the food in his bowl, Iwaizumi slowly licks his spoon, not even bothering to spare Oikawa a glance before responding.

“Don’t blame me if you’re hungry later.”

“But Iwaaa-chaaannn…”

“...Pass it here,” Iwaizumi sighs, holding his hand out towards Oikawa, palm up to receive the bowl.

The brunet cheers in victory before settling the warm and quarter full bowl into Iwaizumi’s waiting hand. 

“Drink the soup,” Iwaizumi orders before shoveling rice porridge into his mouth at alarming speed.

“Yes, yes,” Oikawa replies, gulping down the now cool soup. 

When the brunet lowers his bowl, he finds Iwaizumi gazing at him expectantly, the older male having finished both Oikawa’s remaining rice porridge and his own miso in the time it had taken Oikawa to finish his bowl of soup. Grabbing the bowls on the table and stacking them neatly with a speed that spoke volumes of his experience, Iwaizumi pads to the kitchen, leaving Oikawa to trail slowly behind him, slightly lost without their usual banter about who would be doing the dishes.

“...Iwa-chan, can I help?”

“Who are you and what have you done to Oikawa,” Iwaizumi deadpans in response as he carefully lathers the bowls and spoons with soap, clearly unimpressed.

“You're cruel, Iwa-chan. I was just offering my assistance.”

“...Dry them, then.”

Oikawa hums in confirmation before accepting the first rinsed, clean, and dripping wet bowl from Iwaizumi’s large hand. Grabbing the large dish towel reserved for drying, he proceeds to wipe the water off before placing it on the dishrack. Meticulously and in comfortable silence, the two make quick work of the few dishes they had used, standing side by side. Iwaizumi breaks the silence after Oikawa has placed the last spoon on the dishrack.

“...It's late, but we just ate so we can't sleep. What do you want to do?" 

“...Watch volley--”

“No,” Iwaizumi rejected the idea with no hesitation whatsoever, voice firm, “we will not watch anything volleyball related, and especially _not_ our game.”

“But Iwa--”

“No.” 

 _“_ Hmph.”

“Stop pouting like a child.” 

“ _Hmph_ ,” Oikawa huffs, increasing the intensity of his childlike pouting as he slouched on the sofa. 

“...We'll watch that stupid alien movie again, okay,” Iwaizumi sighs in resignation.

The brunet immediately perks up, chocolate brown eyes glittering as he regarded the older male with wide, enthusiastic eyes.

“Iwaaaaa-chaaaaannnnn!” 

Face impassive but olive green eyes laughing at Oikawa’s enthusiasm that was so very like a dog's, Iwaizumi places the DVD into the player. Oikawa grabs the remote and turns up the volume, attention already caught. No matter how many times he saw it, the brunet always watched with rapt fascination, excitedly pointing and rambling whenever a flying saucer appeared on the screen.

“Iwa-chan, look, look!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see it.”

“It's so cool!”

“Yeah...Legs up, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi ordered, reminding the brunet to elevate his knee and avoid placing unnecessary pressure on it.

“Okay, okay.”

Swinging his legs up, Oikawa leans onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his back pressed to the older male's arm and his legs draped over the armrest of the sofa. Iwaizumi grunts in surprise before relaxing again, gaze trained on the television.

 

***

 

“Oi. If you want to sleep, go upstairs and sleep in your bed." 

Shifting, Oikawa slowly blinks brown eyes open, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Mmm...I wasn't sleeping…”

Iwaizumi sighs. It was obvious that the brunet was exhausted, otherwise he would never be able to fall asleep during one of his favourite alien movies. Seizing the remote from where it rested beside him on the couch, Iwaizumi pauses the movie before turning off the television. 

“...Why'd you do thaaattt,” Oikawa mutters, half asleep.

“C’mon, get up.”

“Whyyyyy.”

“Get up. We're going to go upstairs and sleep, it's pretty late anyways.”

“Ughhh.”

Slouching forward, the brunet drags himself into a standing position, inching forward slowly, steps shuffling and feet dragging. Matching Oikawa’s speed, Iwaizumi stays at his side, one arm held out to support the mostly asleep male if he falls.

“...You do know we have to shower, right?" 

“Hmm?”

“Shower. Is your already slow brain idling even more because you're half asleep.”

“How mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs in response, but there is no whine in his voice; it was as if it was a conditioned response and the brunet only said it out of force of habit.

Concerned that the male wasn't even replying to snarky comments with his normal amount of whining, Iwaizumi places his arm around Oikawa’s waist and the male slumps against him, eyes closing. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa bridal style, cradling him close to his chest and carrying him up the stairs for the second time of the day.

_Ugh...We'll shower in the morning…_

Setting Oikawa down on the bed, he carefully tucks the blanket snugly around the brunet before laying down on the futon. Resting his head on the pillow, Iwaizumi shoves his hand, palm up, under it, trapping the fluffy pillow between his head and bent arm. His body is slightly curved, like a crescent moon, and he stays on the left side, leaving plenty of room on the other side of the futon, as if there was a line dividing it down the middle. It was as if Iwaizumi was either expecting or inviting Oikawa to join him on the futon; or perhaps it was just a habit of his, to sleep that way.

A rustle of fabric fills the once silent room as Oikawa shifts, propping his elbow up on his pillow and resting his chin in his palm. Alert brown eyes dart around the room, accessing the familiar area of his room before resting on Iwaizumi’s partially curled form on the futon on the floor beside Oikawa’s bed. For a few minutes, he is content with just watching the dark haired male sleep, pleased that he is able to see him so vulnerable: dark brows that are almost permanently furrowed are finally relaxed; the constantly angry or annoyed face is peaceful, the closest it would ever be to happiness and content; and the calculating eyes that Oikawa felt always saw through him and every action he did were lightly closed, hiding what he knew were beautiful olive green irises from view. 

“Wow, Iwa-chan, you must be really tired, to fall asleep before me~”

He pauses, waiting for Iwaizumi to make his usual snappy comeback. When there is no reply from him, the teasing tone drops from Oikawa’s voice.

“Hey, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry for making you take care of me all the time, I bet it’s annoying…”

His content and awestruck expression is replaced with a wistful, sorrowful, and regretful one as he continues to observe Iwaizumi. Oikawa knows that no matter how much they wish it and how much they insist that it’ll work out, they would never be able to live together - their universities were simply too far from each other. Unseen by the brunet, the muscles in Iwaizumi’s arm, under his pillow, tense up in response to Oikawa’s heartfelt apology.

_Dumbass, do you think I’d ever be asleep before you?! Ah, I really want to open my eyes and yell at him…_

Iwaizumi could already imagine Oikawa’s replies: 

 **A: Die of embarrassment - “Iwa-chan, I want to die, I’m so embarrassed…”**  

**B: Ramp up his level of teasing even higher than it was already (and it was already sky high) - “I was kidding, Iwaaa-chaaannn, I know you don’t mind taking care of me~”**

_Ugh, none of the outcomes are good...I guess I’ll stay “asleep”..._

He stiffens imperceptibly when Oikawa crawls onto the futon beside him, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed and face relaxed.

“I wish we could be together, Hajime, I really wish,” Oikawa whispers, voice soft and mournful, before he closes his eyes and immediately falls asleep.

Iwaizumi grinds his teeth together, green eyes opening slowly as hot tears pool in them.

 

***

 

“--I--wa--Iwa--”

Short, spiky dark hair disheveled from sleep, Iwaizumi forces his eyes open, blinking the sleep away. He glares at the window and watches the weak early morning sunlight streaming in, wondering what exactly had woken him so early. Once again, Oikawa’s distressed voice rings out in the silent room. 

“Iwa--Iwa-chan--Ha--” 

Iwaizumi bolts upright when he hears the first syllable of his first name, gazing down at Oikawa’s curled form writhing under the blanket. 

“--Haji--Hajim--Hajime…!”

As he watches, tears leak from the corners of Oikawa’s closed eyes. Reaching forward, Iwaizumi gently wipes at the tears with the pad of his thumb. At the sensation of a warm palm caressing his cheek, Oikawa’s eyes flutter open to see Iwaizumi looking down at him.

“...Iwa-chan, are you crying?”

Iwaizumi immediately turns away, presenting Oikawa with a view of his back.

“No.”

“You are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Iwa-chan’s crying~~”

“I’m not…”

“Iwa-chan’s crying,” Oikawa repeats, his voice trailing off with a choked sound as tears pool in his own eyes.

“Shittykawa, I told you, _I’m not crying_ ,” Iwaizumi roars angrily, whirling around.

Tear filled olive green eyes meet weeping chocolate brown ones, their faces twin reflections of pain and sorrow. 

“Iwa-chan’s crying,” Oikawa repeats once again, his voice barely audible over his choked sobs.

“...So are you, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi replies, his own voice hoarse and strangled.

 

***

 

_Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa strides confidently onto the huge volleyball court, his blazing red uniform with bright white number 1 with his name right above it standing out starkly on the TV screen. He recognizes stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi, formerly from Shiratorizawa, standing at Oikawa’s left._

I thought Oikawa _hated_ that guy…

 _On Oikawa’s left stands (more like_ lounges _, if you could even manage to lounge while standing) cunning and sly Kuroo Tetsurō, who Iwaizumi recognized to be from the flexible Nekoma._

Quite a team he’s got...

 _Lost in his memories, Iwaizumi blinks, startled, when Oikawa screams a_ Yes! _on screen, thrusting a clenched fist into the air in victory. Attention refocused on the television, Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa practically struts towards the bench, bright white flag with a burning red circle in the middle (flag of Japan) fluttering from where it hung around his shoulders like a hero’s cape. The brunet is grinning widely and is surrounded by smiling teammates slapping his back._

 _Briefly, Iwaizumi hears fiery orange haired Hinata Shōyō’s voice say_ It’s the Grand King! _, and the flag of Japan around Oikawa’s shoulders becomes a velvet red cape trimmed with luxurious white fur, a large crown decorated with priceless jewels materializing on the head of fluffy chocolate brown hair. When Iwaizumi squints in surprise, the image vanishes like a warm breeze in the summer air._

 

***

 

_Someone is calling his name; who is screaming so loudly?_

_Blink._

Iwaizumi finds himself standing beside Oikawa on a huge volleyball court, large fluorescent lights shining down on them, sweat running down his face from an intense match and his palms aching with the feeling of a really good spike, crowd cheering loudly and wildly.

When he looks down, he finds that he is wearing a burning red uniform with a stark white number 4, and he knows without looking, that the back of it has the word _Iwaizumi_ in white bold letters above the number.

Iwaizumi blinks in confusion and Kuroo Tetsurō, grinning from ear to ear, throws a strong arm over his shoulders while Oikawa watches from the side, a slightly jealous expression on his face. Kuroo then proceeds to pull the team into a group hug, still grinning widely and laughing. Oikawa grins in victory, Iwaizumi smiles happily, and even stoic and emotionless Ushijima manages to curve his lips slightly upwards to pass for a smile.

“Oh my god!”

“What is it, Oikawa,” Ushijima asks, his voice the usual indifferent flatline drone.

“Iwa-chan is _smiling!_ ”

“He is?!”

Kuroo immediately shifts his attention to Iwaizumi after practically yelling the question in shocked disbelief. The rest of the team follows suit, Ushijima’s eyebrows slightly raised questioningly.

“OH MY GAWD HE IS?!”

Somehow, Kuroo is able to raise his voice even louder than before, sounding almost exactly like his demon twin best friend, Bokuto Kōtarō.

“I’m not! Shitty Oikawa…”

Oikawa doesn’t even protest at the fact that Kuroo had been the one to yell so loudly, yet he was the one being reprimanded by Iwaizumi. 

“Iwa-chan’s so cute~~”

Mimicking Kuroo’s earlier action, Oikawa throws an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders; all of a sudden, Iwaizumi feels relieved and so very happy, his smile growing into a full on grin. The brunet is shocked speechless and his only thought is _Oh my god he’s so cute. Thank god all the others are walking away, I’d be so mad if they were able to see Iwa-chan like this_.

When Oikawa laughs, Ushijima turns around with a deadpanned _It was just one win, we still have another game to play_.

Thankfully for Oikawa, the stoic male turns back around quickly, ambling towards the rest of the team. Although the brunet still doesn’t understand why Iwaizumi smiled (and even full out grinned!) to have won that specific game, he doesn’t care; he continues grinning happily at Iwaizumi as they slowly trudge towards where the rest of the team wait for them.

_“Let’s go greet the people in the stands.”_

**_“Congratulations on your victory!”_ **

 

_***_

 

“I'm back,” Iwaizumi mutters to himself as he shuts and locks the door behind him, grocery bag dangling from a hand.

“Iwa-chan, welcome home!”

 


	2. Of Pain and Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh this is a year late but I forgot to post it. I had most of it written out but then forgot that it existed for the longest time :(

Oikawa Tooru was tired. Surrounded by squealing girls (something practically every other male his age could only dream of) as he strode around the mall they had forced him to accompany them to, Oikawa’s only wish was to go home. He was exhausted from walking around all day and his bad knee was acting up again, sending shockwaves of pain up his leg whenever he took a step. All the brunet desired

with all his heart at that moment was to return home and be pampered until he either forgets the pain or falls asleep. His male pride only allowed him to limp as undetectably as possible, causing Oikawa to lean more weight than he should onto his right knee in his effort to walk normally.

_Ah, it hurts. It hurts so bad I want to die._

When the girls direct their attention to Oikawa and excitedly ask his opinion about some useless thing or another, he scrambles to pull his scattered attention together, collecting just enough to ask them to repeat what they had just said. Although even he himself could feel and hear how fake it was, Oikawa plasters a grin on his face, laughing lightly and hollowly. The girls lap the act up without even noticing that the brunet was clearly forcing himself to seem like he was enjoying the time he spent with them, giggling as if Oikawa had just said the funniest thing in the world.

“How mean you are, Oikawa-san, pay more attention to us~”

“We were just asking you if you wanted ice cream as an after dinner dessert~”

The rest of the replies from the girls are drowned out by a particularly bad throb of pain from his knee. Forcing himself to smile through the pain, Oikawa replies with a strained, “If you’d all like some, we can go get some, although I may have to head home after this, sorry~”

His response is met with a chorus of _aw_ and _why, don't leave_ from the girls. Placing his hands together, Oikawa winks with his signature grin, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry girls~”

Giggling, they each latch onto his arm, dragging him forward like a pack. Oikawa hisses softly under his breath as his strides lengthen to match their speed, forcing him to place even more weight on his dominant (and injured) leg.

_It hurts. Someone save me._

Suddenly, his phone starts vibrating insistently in his pocket. He only partially registers the girls loudly wondering who it could be as he punches the green button to pick up with his forefinger, not even bothering to check the caller ID. Oikawa turns his back to the group of girls, hoping that the call would distract him from his pain as he answers with a dull _hello_. A familiar voice emanates from the speaker of the phone, sounding _oh so beautiful_ to Oikawa’s ears.

“Where are you.”

“Out with the girls,” Oikawa chirps, hoping against hope that the voice from the other side of the phone would recognize that he desperately wanted to get away from there.

“Is that so.”

“Yep, do you want something from me~?”

“Yeah. Come home.”

“Aw, but I don't want to go home yet,” Oikawa whines.

Anyone who knew Oikawa’s true self would've been able to pick up the obvious S.O.S. in his tone. _I don't want to be here, but I have to pretend that I'm having too much fun and want to stay._

“We all want something. Doesn't mean we can always get what we want. It's late. Get your ass home, now.”

“B-but--”

“ _Now_.”

“You…--Fine,” the brunet huffs in annoyance, but there is an underlying hint of relief in his voice that is immediately noticed by the male who had called him.

“...Get home safe, stupid Oikawa.”

Just as Oikawa opens his mouth to reply with one of his teasingly sly remarks, he hears the dial tone signaling that the other side had hung up. Exhaling a silent breath and shoving his phone into his pocket, he plasters the perfect and fake grin back onto his face, glad that he could return home soon and stop pretending. Turning back to the girls, he carefully places a hint of a whine into his voice, reluctance dripping falsely from every word.

“Sorry girls, I’m sure you just heard that I have to leave now. I wish I could spend more time with you all, today was a blast~”

“Awww.”

“Don’t leaveee.”

“Who called you?”

“Stay, just for a little more.”

“Just a few minutes, let’s get ice cream together~”

Oikawa brushes aside the question, ignoring it as he directs the attention of the girls towards a different topic. “We can go out again sometime, but I’ve got to go now, although I don’t want to at all,” he replies with a great deal of false reluctance, gazing at the girls with wide brown puppy dog eyes.

After a while of pleading and explaining that he didn't want to get into trouble for not being home on time, the girls finally relented, releasing Oikawa with pouts and sulky expressions. As he waved goodbye at least twice and strode quickly away from the girls, Oikawa’s knee screamed murder, causing him to further hasten his pace. All he wanted was to be home.

On the train ride back, Oikawa tries to sit as much as possible, his nature not allowing him to refuse when an elderly person or mother with a young child boarded the train and needed a seat. The brunet knew he was going to receive the scolding of his life when he returned, but he also knew that he would be pampered to no end at the same time.

As Oikawa rushed home, Iwaizumi was doing the same. He had been out for a run, feeling restless when the house was so silent. Jogging at a very quick pace back, Iwaizumi knew that it would likely take a while for Oikawa to return home. Unlocking the apartment door with a jingle of keys, he swiftly locked it behind him, shoving his keys back into his shorts pockets. Kicking off his shoes, Iwaizumi proceeded to cool down, sitting on the hardwood floor to stretch his muscles.

After a very thorough stretch (Iwaizumi knew how to take care of his body, unlike a certain reckless someone), he hopped to his feet, heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower. Halfway to the bathroom door, Iwaizumi realizes that he hadn't prepared any clothes for after his shower, turning swiftly on his heel and heading for the dresser sitting in a corner of the bedroom.

As Iwaizumi returns to the bathroom, clothes in hand, Oikawa returns home, murmuring a much quieter than usual _I'm back_ as he kicks his shoes off and locks the door behind him. Oikawa’s pain dulls his senses and he practically drops from exhaustion, dragging himself forward with sheer force of will. He knew that if he didn't take a shower before collapsing on the bed, he would receive a quite long and thorough scolding.

Not realizing that he hadn't heard Iwaizumi respond to him returning home, Oikawa drags himself to the bathroom, pulling the door open. His pain is instantly forgotten as he stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and drinking in the sight before him.

Iwaizumi stands in the middle of their moderately large bathroom with his back to the door, halfway through with tugging his shirt off. Smooth tanned skin is slowly revealed, inch by inch, the thin sheen of sweat coating it shining softly under the florescent lighting. Strong back muscles shift as Iwaizumi pulls his shirt higher up, shoulder blades coming into view. A white bandage is wrapped around his right elbow, extending halfway up his arm and down his forearm. For a few moments, Oikawa experiences pure panic - _Why is that there what happened why is he hurt I will hunt down whoever did this to him and make them know Hell_ \- before he realizes they were there for the same reason he had identical bandages wrapped around the fingers of his right hand. With a soft sigh, Iwaizumi pulls the shirt fully off and tosses it aside into the hamper.

Oikawa has a sudden urge to sink his short nails into that delicious back. He wonders why Iwaizumi isn't playing basketball, because that shot was _perfect_.

Rapt, Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi drops his hands to his waist, fingers slipping under the waistband of the shorts he wore. The dark head suddenly lifts and Iwaizumi whirls around.

“Oikawa?”

The brunet curses himself as he stands frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights, knowing he had probably let a small sound escape and it had alerted Iwaizumi of his presence.

“...You okay?” Iwaizumi starts towards Oikawa even as he murmurs the question, face as angry looking as ever but green eyes displaying his concern.

“I, uh...Maybe I should've just stayed home today?”

“You dumbass--”

“Iwa--”

Scooping Oikawa up, Iwaizumi doesn't miss the wince and small pained sound that he tries to hide, frowning furiously in displeasure.

“Your arm--Let me _down_ \--”

“Shut up, Shittykawa--Stop struggling-- _Stay still.”_

Oikawa freezes purely on instinct, brown eyes wide. Iwaizumi huffs in exasperation, carrying the brunet to their bedroom and setting him gently on the bed. He then proceeds to remove Oikawa’s pants, movements purposeful and deliberate.

“Wa-Wait! Iwa-chan!? What are you doing?!”

“Taking your pants off,” he replies, as if it were as normal as making small talk about the weather.

“I can see that--But, _why_?!”

Iwaizumi simply tosses Oikawa’s pants to the ground, not bothering to reply.

“Wh-What are you doing,” the brunet is obviously nervous, fiddling with his fingers and wriggling in place as he watched Iwaizumi climb up onto the bed.

Gentle tanned fingers trail up the ankle of his bad leg, and he shivers.

“Look at me,” Iwaizumi’s voice is seductively low, fingers lazily making their way up Oikawa’s calf.

Anxious chocolate brown eyes meet steady olive green ones - Iwaizumi carefully applies varying degrees of gentle pressure on Oikawa’s bad knee, sharp eyes observing and analyzing every twitch and reaction. He even goes so far as to test how far Oikawa can bend his knee before it hurts, fingers supportive and tender as he straightens the joint. Oikawa tries to keep his face expressionless, but his eyes flinch away just a few millimeters from Iwaizumi’s whenever he feels pain in his knee. Satisfied that the brunet hadn’t tried to worm his way out of the situation but worried about the damage already done to his knee, Iwaizumi scowls, raising a hand to ruffle the fluffy brown hair in reassurance.

“...Iwa-chan…?

“Good job making it through the day.”

“It hurt so bad I wanted to die, you know,” Oikawa jokes, laughing lightly, the sound ringing hollow to even his own ears.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replies, gaze understanding.

 

***

 

 _How did it come to this?!_ Oikawa’s mind is screaming in pure incomparable confusion - with just a hint of underlying arousal - as he sat on a plastic stool in the bathroom, stark naked but for the tiny towel modestly covering his crotch. Directly behind Oikawa is Iwaizumi, who kneels on the wet tiled floor, wearing nothing but his shorts and underwear, washing the brunet’s back with great care. He had flat out refused to allow Oikawa to do anything that may further damage or pain his knee, and apparently it meant he didn’t allow Oikawa to do _anything._

Although Oikawa himself did not mind being pampered like a princess who seemingly didn’t know how to do anything, mini Oikawa down below was quite confused with the situation. The brunet refused to allow himself to think about what Iwaizumi might look behind him, gorgeously toned chest bare and muscles working as he--Wait, wait, wait, think sad thoughts, Oikawa. Sad thoughts. It would be really embarrassing if he popped a boner like a rabbit in heat, since he had the smallest piece of fabric in existence to hide it with. Oikawa frantically concentrated on thinking sad thoughts; spilled milk, wasted food, abandoned and starving puppies, missing a serve, losing a volleyball game…

Suddenly, he’s lifted into the air from his seat - he feels a strong arm under his knees, another around his back, and a proud chest against his shoulder. He yelps embarrassingly loud in surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth as the sound echoes around the bathroom, bouncing off the tiled walls and floor.

Iwaizumi flinches at the sound, reflexively clutching Oikawa close, protecting him from a danger that didn’t exist. “...Sorry, did I scare you? You were really deep in thought.”

“I’m--I’m good--Not scared at all,” Oikawa mumbles from behind his palms, the words emerging as an unintelligible mess of garbled syllables. His eyes seemingly convey his thoughts, for Iwaizumi lifts a brow before striding forward.

The brunet listens to the steady beat of Iwaizumi’s heart as he is carried over to the full and lightly steaming tub. Iwaizumi warily lowers Oikawa inch by inch into the hot water, deliberately making sure to give him enough time to get used to the temperature. After Oikawa settles into the tub with a pleased sigh, Iwaizumi makes to leave the room, and Oikawa raises an arm, reaching after the retreating back.

“Iwa-chan!”

Deep olive green eyes meet his, the reply measured and patient. “I’ll come back to wash your hair later, so take your time and soak for a while.”

“You...Also have to--”

“I’ll shower later.”

“But--Look, the tub is big enough for both of us...And we can save water~”

Iwaizumi frowns in consideration, and Oikawa is instantly afraid of rejection.

“--Sorry, I--”

“...Okay.”

“--Wasn’t thinking, and--...Okay?!”

 

***

 

 _What was I thinking?!_ Oikawa mentally berates himself, eyes hopelessly glued to the sight of Iwaizumi gradually sliding his shorts off, hips swaying from side to side. Dragging his gaze to the blank wall in front of him, the brunet listens to the sound of his childhood friend thoroughly washing and rinsing himself of soap. He then proceeds to make a conscious effort not to look any lower than Iwaizumi’s rib cage when the spiker lowers himself into the hot water.

Resting his arms on the sides of the tub, Iwaizumi tips his head back to rest on the wall behind him, exhaling a soft content breath. Brown eyes follow the curve of thick black lashes that kissed the top of perfectly tanned cheekbones, down the gorgeously chiseled jawline that would leave even Aphrodite weeping at the beauty, to the gloriously muscled chest that any man their age would be greatly jealous of.

“...Fuck me,” Oikawa whispers in awe, voice so quiet he might as well have just moved his mouth without any sound.

A narrow green eye lazily peeks open. “Hn?”

 _ShitshitshitshitSHIT--_ “I--”

“I’d rather not,” Iwaizumi states, each word deliberately enunciated.

The embarrassment at possibly having been heard switches into pain so quickly, Oikawa probably got severe emotional whiplash. He lowers his eyes, heart hurting far worse than his knee had all day, vision going blurry and distorted.

“We don’t need your knee hurt any worse than it already is,” Iwaizumi continues, “So take it easy.”

He can’t help it - a startled laugh escapes Oikawa, the sound broken and watery. Iwaizumi’s eyes fly open so quickly he scares the brunet, burning with a fire so intense, Oikawa can practically feel the heat searing his skin. The once relaxed demeanor is gone, replaced with tightly coiled muscles as Iwaizumi pressed into Oikawa’s space, crowding him to one side of the tub. Iwaizumi’s gaze follows a glittering tear running down the side of Oikawa’s cheek, sliding a thumb across its path before it could fully escape down the brunet’s chin.

His expression a mix of desperation, sorrow, pain, and longing, Oikawa’s voice cracks when he tries to speak. “I--...”

Grief swims in Iwaizumi’s eyes before he surges forward, pinning one of Oikawa’s wrists to the tiled wall with a hand, the other slamming down beside the brown hair, trapping the brunet beneath him before claiming his lips. Oikawa gasps into Iwaizumi’s mouth, eyes wide and body instinctively rebelling against the force pinning him down, before his eyes flutter shut, a stray tear sliding down his cheek. He melts when Iwaizumi’s tongue slips past his lips, body sagging against the cold tile at his back. Their tongues entwine sloppily and Oikawa can’t stop the soft breathy moan that escapes, panting heavily when Iwaizumi pulls back for a breath. Releasing Oikawa’s wrist in favour of his hand, Iwaizumi tangles their fingers together, pressing palm against palm.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa breathes, voice hoarse and low and absolutely _destroyed._

“Hm?” Iwaizumi hums, fondly.

“Kiss…”

“I just did,” is the cheeky response, green eyes glittering playfully.

“But--” Oikawa frowns, pouting.

“Just kidding,” Iwaizumi purrs smoothly, shifting forward to press their lips together again.

Their second kiss escalates swiftly, from sweet and curious to rough and demanding, tongues pushing and dancing together. Oikawa presses as close as he can to Iwaizumi, and the Iwaizumi responds by pulling the brunet into his lap mid kiss. His legs framing Iwaizumi’s hips, Oikawa leans against the broad chest, tilting his head up. Iwaizumi roughly grabs Oikawa’s face with calloused fingers, holding it gently as they make out intensely in the cooling bathwater.

Embarrassingly, Oikawa can feel himself growing hard, but a soft breathless gasp from the other male has him pushing the embarrassment aside and drowning in the feeling of lips on his. Iwaizumi shifts a leg, no doubt trying to settle into a more comfortable position; his thigh slides up and Oikawa’s head falls back, the filthiest moan imaginable pouring out from between kiss swollen lips. Blinking twice in rapid succession, Iwaizumi leans back, gaping at Oikawa in pure shock.

The brunet nearly laughs at the astonishment painted almost comically all over Iwaizumi’s ordinarily grouchy face, blushing a dark crimson when the flabbergasted gaze trails down.

“...You’re…”

“S-Stop staring…” Oikawa mumbles, hands falling from Iwaizumi’s chest in a pointless attempt to hide himself.

“...’Kay…” Iwaizumi murmurs, directing his eyes to the ceiling, flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears and neck.

The brunet is taken aback by such a docile and meek reaction, his half hard length twitching in interest. He smirks, a mischievous light in his eyes as he decides to tease Iwaizumi.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purrs, pushing forward into Iwaizumi’s space and backing him into the wall, “You should take responsibility for causing this~”

“Causing what,” Iwaizumi snaps, not meeting Oikawa’s eyes.

“This,” the brunet whispers in a sultry voice, grabbing Iwaizumi’s hand and guiding it down.

Iwaizumi flinches when his hand is directed to close around Oikawa, fingers instinctively squeezing together. Oikawa lets out a breathless groan, head falling forward to rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. It’s undeniable - Iwaizumi finds such a simple action adorable and _very_ arousing.

Cautiously, he squeezes just a little more, sliding his hand up and down once, the movement smooth with the help of the tub of water they sat in. Oikawa inhales sharply at Iwaizumi’s neck, shakily exhaling. Now extremely turned on, Iwaizumi leans forward, mouthing at Oikawa’s slender neck - he drops open-mouthed kisses down towards the brunet’s collarbone, reveling in the feeling of him shivering in response.

Oikawa shudders, raising his arms to rest them on broad shoulders, crossing his wrists together behind Iwaizumi’s neck. The calloused hand on his dick is gentle - perhaps just a little bit too gentle - but he’s sure Iwaizumi would get into it later. He advances forward, moving closer until his cock slides against Iwaizumi’s, the two of them groaning simultaneously at the contact.

Iwaizumi shifts his grip, the hold awkward, but he works his way around it with quick strokes, grinding, and expert wrist twists. Soon, both he and Oikawa are close, breathing harshly, Iwaizumi’s hand movements rough and sloppy. They kiss, jaws slack and mouths disorganized, panting into the other’s open mouth. Saliva slips down their chins and they pay it no attention, muscles tense and bodies bent close together in the center of the tub.

Oikawa suddenly whimpers, hands clawing at Iwaizumi’s back, blunt fingernails raising red lines on the smooth skin. “ _Hahh--_ Iwa--I’m--” he chokes out.

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, instead dipping his head and pressing his nose to the brunet’s neck. He bites _hard_ into the smooth skin that connected Oikawa’s neck to his shoulder - nearly drawing blood - a growl rumbling in his chest as his body stiffens all at once.

“ _Hhhggh--_ ” Oikawa gasps, the sound pained but quickly changing to a low, choked moan. He shivers lightly as he comes down from his high, the opposite to Iwaizumi’s statue like stillness - they cling to each other, breathing laboured.

“...This defeats the purpose of a bath,” Iwaizumi mutters, gazing down at the mess all over their stomachs and his hands.

“Heh,” Oikawa snickers, “the water’s cold anyway.” Blissed out, he sighs, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes.

Reaching over to uncover the drain, Iwaizumi watched the water swirl around and down, leaving them sitting in a damp, empty tub. Standing up, he grabs the showerhead, turning on the water and thoroughly rinsing first Oikawa, then himself. Having just spent his remaining energy, Oikawa dozed, half asleep, twitching only when hot water slowly fills the tub again.

Painstakingly manoeuvring himself behind Oikawa, Iwaizumi carefully tilts the brunet’s head to wet the brown locks with warm water. He uses his fingers to comb Oikawa’s fringe back, reaching for a shampoo bottle and exhaling a quiet, amused laugh when Oikawa slumped back against him, eyes still shut tight. Squeezing a liberal amount of shampoo onto his fingers, Iwaizumi rubs it between his hands, both warming the cold liquid and lathering it into fluffy bubbles, gently massaging it into Oikawa’s hair.

The brunet hums, the sound light and pleased, relaxing into the fingers that worked through his hair, rubbing his scalp in smooth circles with just the right amount of pressure. The hot water soothes his once aching knee, and he feels like the luckiest person in the world as Iwaizumi treats him with the utmost care.

By the time Iwaizumi rinsed all the suds out of Oikawa’s hair and washed his own hair, Oikawa is three quarters of the way out of commission, breath warm against Iwaizumi’s collarbone. Thankfully, Iwaizumi’s short, spiky dark hair is easier and much quicker to wash in comparison to Oikawa’s much longer brown locks, and he finishes as quickly as he dares, warily, so as not to accidentally pour water all over Oikawa’s oblivious face.

Rearranging the shampoo bottles and the shower head into their ordinary positions, Iwaizumi coaxes Oikawa to a stand outside the tub, pulling the plug out of the drain and patting Oikawa dry with a large, white fluffy towel as the tub empties. The action is repeated for himself, albeit much quicker, his attention focused towards getting Oikawa into bed as quickly as possible, Iwaizumi’s own fatigue weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Oikawa stubbornly limps forward by himself, eyes half lidded and steps shuffling, clearly much closer to asleep than awake. He ignores Iwaizumi’s grumpy, dissatisfied frown and awkward, worried hovering, blinking sleepily as he pulls on clean clothes that were hanging on hooks behind the bathroom door.

Iwaizumi hurriedly slides into his own clothes, hopping frantically on one foot as he loses his balance trying to pull his sweatpants on, eyes fixated on Oikawa’s lanky frame stumbling towards their bed. He carefully matches his pace with the brunet’s, pulling his shirt on.

When Oikawa stumbles, momentarily losing his balance and quickly righting himself, Iwaizumi huffs a purposefully loud exasperated sigh before smoothly scooping Oikawa up in his arms.

The brunet exhales a barely audible _sorry_ , exhaustion slurring the syllables together.

“Mm,” Iwaizumi hums, ducking his head to gently bump his nose against Oikawa’s.

Chocolate brown eyes glimmer with happiness and unabashed adoration before Oikawa’s eyes flutter shut.

Iwaizumi carefully lowers a limp Oikawa onto the bed, watching as he wiggles into a more comfortable position. Sharp eyes noticing the deep bite mark he had earlier inflicted on the brunet’s neck, Iwaizumi shifts more weight onto the knee he had rested on the bed to bend over Oikawa, placing a hand onto the pillow beside the one that currently pillowed the brunet’s head. He licks lightly at the marks left by his own teeth before showering the area with delicate, apologetic kisses.

Shifting restlessly with a quiet sigh, Oikawa bares his neck to Iwaizumi, and the opportunity doesn’t escape unnoticed; Iwaizumi kisses up the column of Oikawa’s neck before nibbling at his jawline, teeth softly grazing the skin.

An amused, airy chuckle escapes Oikawa, the hand nearest Iwaizumi’s snaking around the spiker’s wrist, lightly tugging.

One corner of Iwaizumi’s lips twitches upward in what he’d never admit to be a fond smile before he flops down onto his side facing Oikawa, pulling the blanket up to cover their shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always greatly appreciated~!


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